


Dear heart

by UlsPi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark Magic, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, No beta we fall like Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 14:40:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20677061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/pseuds/UlsPi
Summary: "He must have sold his soul to you, demon.""Oh, no, Gabriel, you idiot. I would never accept such a gift. I sold my soul to him.""Really?" a shade of former Gabriel smirked from behind a wretched beggar's face."Really.""What… what could he ever given you for such a treasure?""His heart. He gave me his heart," answered Crowley mercilessly.





	Dear heart

**Author's Note:**

> It just happened. I blame the game of thrones soundtrack (season 7 mostly).  
Also, heavily inspired by Mononoke hime.

Aziraphale was taken to the front rampart of Heaven. The castle had stood for a thousand years, which inevitably made the owners arrogant, smug and careless. The family legend stated that Heaven was built by the founder of the dynasty, Gabriel, the mightiest of creatures, and therefore every heir was called Gabriel regardless of gender. The current prisoner of Aziraphale was Gabriel number 66. He was promised to be the one true heir to the original Gabriel, mostly because he looked eerily like his ancestor and had the same air of holier-than-thou that his forefather possessed. Aziraphale knew better. The castle of Heaven was built by one Crowley, a being of unfathomable power and unknown origin, as a joke, a solution to a puzzle he had been asked to solve, and so he created an impenetrable fortress. Aziraphale knew it because he knew Crowley and because the puzzle was Aziraphale's. Not that he was willing to share that knowledge with anyone.  
"See that land, wizard? It's mine, and it has too many people who disobey, consider themselves smarter and cleverer than I am. I want you to wipe them out, along with their families. Or you'll regret the day you were born," Gabriel made an impression of a smile, which never reached his purple eyes.  
"I think I'll decline. I believe I have declined that particular request countless times, the first one of course having come from your ancestor."  
"Oh, I don't think so. We will hurt you, wizard."  
"And if you hurt me, than who would do your bidding?" asked Aziraphale calmly.  
"You must know what happened to every other wizard that refused me," Gabriel kept trying his best to smile.  
"You killed them, I know. I couldn't save them," admitted Aziraphale bitterly.  
"Yes, but there are some of your kind still roaming the world. The filth that you are. Blasphemous monsters who consider themselves better and wiser than anyone else. I'll hurt you and I'll hurt them."  
Aziraphale appeared to be considering his answer, and Gabriel was sure that the answer would be pleasing this time.  
"No, I don't think I will help you. Such power belongs to me only, I received it from the Goddess Herself, and you murdered innocent people who wouldn't have been able to fulfill your request anyway. Do you know how Gabriel came here?"  
"He conquered this land…"  
"He did no such thing. He fell from the sky, like I did, and was so bitter and angry that he brought upon this peaceful country only discord and disease."  
"Blasphemy!" Gabriel cut Aziraphale's cheek with a small dagger.  
"Probably. Still true, though," Aziraphale calmly wiped the blood with his sleeve.  
The night was quiet but restless. Crowley must have been on his way. No growing, living, breathing thing in the world would dare move or make a sound when their master, the forest God, the healer, the builder of stars found himself displeased. That was the point Gabriel couldn't have possibly grasped: only deep love and loyalty pledged out of love may grant one complete obedience, or rather attention. Crowley would never ask for obedience, he was far too disobedient himself.  
No one remembered when Crowley came into the world. When Aziraphale fell along with many other children of the Goddess, Crowley had already been living down here for thousands of years.  
The truth was that Aziraphale knew all too well that they hadn't fallen. They had grown up, they couldn't have stayed Up with their Mother, so She had sent them into the world. Many became mortal, had families, children, legacies. Many died quickly. One, Gabriel, turned vengeful and power hungry, and burnt down the place he had landed in that laughed him in the face and refused to recognise his power.  
One, Aziraphale, found an abandoned lighthouse and dedicated himself to helping those who would ask for his help. He was wise enough to know that he didn't know enough, therefore he surrounded himself with books and an apple orchard. Vegetable garden followed, then vineyard. Aziraphale learned from the humans, studied their science. More importantly, no sanctum could ever be safer than his lighthouse that had hosted many an outcast through the years. He was content with his life, with his role and mostly with his impact, until one day he met a serpent in his orchard. He caressed its head and asked for its name. The serpent turned into a tall, lanky red-haired man, his eyes hidden behind the shades.  
"I'm Crowley, and you are Aziraphale," said Crowley.  
"I am indeed. May I be of any help?"  
"No, I don't think so. But your trees could grow better."  
"I know. Couldn't figure out how."  
"I could teach you," suggested Crowley.  
"There must be a price," replied Aziraphale softly.  
"No, angel, prices are for those who think they caught me in their gardens. You caressed my head and showed me respect if not kindness. I will teach you because I want it."  
Years went on, and it was told that Aziraphale had someone in his tower. A friend, a relative, a servant… No visitor could be sure, but yet, there he was, Crowley, the modest, kind and secretive creator of each and every fruit, of each tree in each forest, of each ripe vegetable, the inventor of fermentation.  
Some said Aziraphale's companion had a twin sister, and nobody had ever seen the siblings together, but they both had rust red hair, hid their eyes and moved with serpentine grace.  
Crowley taught Aziraphale, and shared meals with Aziraphale, for he could never actually understand food, eating in general, and considered fermentation his greatest invention, yet when Aziraphale turned vegetables and some rice people had brought him as a payment for his help, into a warm dish with a handful of herbs, with some freshly made bread, Crowley couldn't ever get enough and devoured the meal happily, Aziraphale's fond blue eyes fixed on him.  
"Do you want to know what I am?" asked Crowley one evening when they rested before an open window, Aziraphale in his armchair and Crowley with his head dangerously close to Aziraphale's knee. Aziraphale was far too full and drunk to be careful or recognize a danger, so he let himself dip his fingers in the rust of Crowley's hair.  
"Only if you want to tell me, my dear."  
"It's nice, what you are doing," hissed Crowley, finally resting his head on Aziraphale's knee.  
"I should continue then," suggested Aziraphale, sudden flow of warmth running through his body.  
"Please, do…"  
"Is it something you are doing to me, my dear?"  
"I'd never do anything to you, angel. Apparently, you are enjoying yourself as much as I am…" Crowley turned his head to look Aziraphale in the eye. His shades had been left somewhere at the table, and Aziraphale could freely admire the molten gold of his friend's eyes.  
"I am enjoying myself. I am enjoying pleasing you, darling."  
"Careful, angel. You don't know what I am yet."  
"You are someone beautiful, kind and wise I found in my garden some years ago. You saved those plague children, when no one could. You swam to the mainland when the water had risen to bring everyone you could rescue, here. You saved me when I got lost in the midst of a war. You brought me countless books. You are Crowley. You must be Her first child, the one who had left Her of their own accord, whom She had been missing ever since. The one, who they say, grew the forests. Tamed the beasts."  
"So many tales, angel, you shouldn't believe that."  
He was slouching lazily on the floor, his gaze on Aziraphale, his hair between Aziraphale's fingers, his heart a promise of the first spring thunderstorm, the heavy weight of his head a pleasant pressure on Aziraphale's knee.  
"You know," began Crowley after a few minutes of silence, "I did save those children, but you brought them here, bruised and beaten, because they didn't let you get closer to them, fearing them. I did swim to the mainland, but only after you begged me to do so."  
"I didn't have to beg, my dear. You jumped into the water immediately."  
"You knew what had been happening, while I didn't, and I didn't care. They cut my forests and burned my essence, violated everything I had brought into this world. They killed and raped and tortured, and yet you wanted to save them… How could I ever disobey such kindness?"  
"There is kindness in them, too. But you chose to stay with me, chose to make my orchard, my garden, my vineyard what they are today. Dare I say, my dear, you must care very deeply for me."  
Aziraphale smiled and cupped Crowley's cheek. He closed his yellow, serpentine eyes and hissed happily.  
"You brought me rain at the time of draught, you forced the sun out of the clouds for me. You gave me books I couldn't find myself… I'm so glad that you chose to stay with me, my dear."  
"You call everyone "my dear", angel. I want you to call me something you wouldn't ever call anyone."  
"Darling. Dear heart. Sweetheart. Crowley."  
"Yesssssss, like thissssss, say it again…"  
"Darling, dear heart, sweetheart, my tender serpent, Crowley, Crowley, Crowley."  
"Yesssssss… that's nicccccccce… You know, angel, if you ever need me, just call me."  
"Dear heart," whispered Aziraphale from the rampart, a blissful smile on his lips.  
Crowley had been out the day Aziraphale had been taken, and Crowley had been looking for him anyway, but it was pleasant, always, even now, when his usual white garment had been stained with filth and fear, when his cheek kept bleeding.  
Aziraphale's body felt real and right only because there was a lanky, gaunt, omnipotent creature pressed against it for many a night.  
"Dear heart, it's so very tiresome, to be without you."  
Remember that, dear heart, Aziraphale thought, a thousand years ago, when we talked and discussed different war strategies, both of us opposed to any sort of war, and I asked you, clever dear heart, whether you could build something impenetrable, so you got up, wrapped me up in your many obsidian wings and carried me through the night and wind here. Overnight you built it and showed it to me and showered me with your care and your… what do they call it? They found a very short word to say so many things! That's why I love them, and you despise them, dear heart, darling, sweetheart, Crowley, Crowley, Crowley.  
Gabriel slit his other cheek.  
"You don't know what's coming for you," Aziraphale grinned smugly, the way his dear heart would.  
What a night that was. A storm, rain assaulting the trees and the garden, and Crowley held Aziraphale closer to calm him, although unnecessarily so, and whispered something to him, something binding, something terrible and terrific.  
A man appeared on the horizon, and however dark it was, the man stood out clearly. He walked slowly and calmly, his arms hidden in the wide sleeves of his usual black robe. The traditions of the land could be traced to the first appearances of Crowley, and since the time immemorial hiding one's arms had been a sign of danger, of a much greater force ready to attack.  
"Oh, see, we have a guest. Might get me a mighty wizard and a demon too," Gabriel apparently was feeling too victorious for his own good.  
"You don't know what's coming for you," Aziraphale smiled tenderly.  
The man grew taller and less human by the step, and by the time he had reached the castle his head was above the castle walls.  
"Hey, filth. Came to rescue your bed warmer? Afraid, there is a deal…" said Gabriel.  
Crowley took his shades off and looked at Aziraphale.  
"May I, angel? They hurt you, after all. I never let such a thing happen before."  
"Anything you find necessary, dear heart," Aziraphale smiled.  
"You are abominations, both of you. You defiled the Goddess…" Gabriel gave a sign to the archers.  
There was a soft sound of air trembling with electricity, and then a winged snake wrapped its wings around Aziraphale and jumped with him off the castle walls, as countless snakes took over the ramparts, tying Gabriel and poisoning each and every person they fell upon, as Gabriel watched, helpless and still gleeful.  
"Your illusions don't scare me, demon," he tried to shake off the snakes, but they had turned into burning rods and didn't let him breathe let alone move…  
"One shouldn't be too cruel, my darling, whispered Aziraphale into Crowley's ear as they flew back to the lighthouse.  
"Should I let him go unharmed, angel? I'll do whatever you want."  
"Let him be. He must have learned his lesson, dear heart."  
Gabriel felt the snakes falling off of his body. He looked around, smug and calm.  
His entire army was dead, and the only persons left alive in the castle were his timid unhappy wife and his young son.  
"You're… you're the devil," whispered Michael, holding her baby closer to her chest. "I'm leaving you, and you'll never follow, you beast."  
Crowley put his angel on the bed and looked at him, concerned, his wings still unhidden.  
"Are you alright, angel? Did he hurt you?"  
"No, my dear, no. I'm fine. A couple of scratches, that's all."  
"I let his wife and son escape."  
"Good for them. Come here, Crowley. I've missed you."  
Many years later Crowley was wandering around Heaven looking for a particular herb that always made Aziraphale's dishes even more delicious, and saw Gabriel, his clothes ragged, his whole body shaking with cold and fear.  
"Y… y… you…" he pointed a dirty finger at Crowley.  
"Yes, me. You hurt my angel."  
"I… I lost eve… every…. Everything."  
"Serves you well, I guess."  
"He must have sold his soul to you, demon."  
"Oh, no, Gabriel, you idiot. I would never accept such a gift. I sold my soul to him."  
"Really?" a shade of former Gabriel smirked from behind a wretched beggar's face.  
"Really."  
"What… what could he ever given you for such a treasure?"  
"His heart. He gave me his heart," answered Crowley mercilessly.  
Aziraphale was calling him, and he opened his wings, hearing only that beloved, blue-eyed, impeccably kind angel:  
"Come back to me, dear heart, the dinner is getting cold."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Kudos and comments make my day. Wahoo and prosper.


End file.
